Monday, March 31, 2008

Keep it in your pants...your weapon, I mean

Several things tickled my darker side when I saw this ad in a recent edition of our local small town newspaper...

First of all, surprise of surprises, it's seems not nearly as difficult to get a permit to carry a concealed weapon here in my adopted state as one would think. Or does it come down to not what you know, but who you know? Same all over then.

Secondly, I didn't realize that 50 well aimed and fired bullets was all it takes to pass the class and get certified. Seems to me that for some, 50 bullets would be way overkill to prove their firearm proficiency. While others may feel that being limited to half a hundred of the hot leaded projectiles wouldn't be nearly enough.

Thirdly, their preference for "semi-automatics" totally set me if I show up with my English flintlock steel barreled blunderbuss, I'm going to get some sort of lesser treatment?

Finally, what Cardinal Richelieu exclaims in the Bulwer-Lytton play regarding the pen being mightier than the sword (or concealed weapon in this case), is honorific ally demonstrated with clarity and not a hint in irony at the bottom of this ad..."Please bring a pen to write with."

Can't get your concealed weapons permit without passing the class and you can't pass the class without taking some notes.

And for that, you'll need a pen.

1 comment:

BigAssBelle said...

simple, isn't it? i was completely opposed to guns for a long time, though i was brought up in ponca city, the child of a collector of antique guns.

when i met my husband and we first traveled to wyoming, to meet his parents in his old stomping grounds, everyone was armed. everyone. it was shocking. we went to the mountains and with the exception of the two of us, everyone in our party was packing a pistol, even his mother.

now they've made their way into my house, these guns, and i'm not so opposed and once even managed to save myself or my life or my honor or something by having a gun close by in the back of my warehouse when a crackhead wandered in and became threatening.

i'm kind of neutral, i think. i just have a lot of them, antiques mostly, purchased at auctions. it's weird how life changes.